Cinnamon and Pumpkins and Orange Leaves

I love the fall. Everything is new, and everything is changing. It reminds me of football games, and rosy cheeks and frigid noses in the falling twilight. It reminds me of cloudy afternoons and bright red apples and warm hot chocolate. It reminds me of the taste of cinnamon and apple pie and cider.

I wish I could feel your big, warm hand embracing mine as we crunch the leaves under our feet. I wish we could drink pumpkin coffees from Starbucks while we sit on the bench on the corner, watching people and laughing while we snuggle close together.

I wish the smell of your cologne would mingle with the scent of warm chocolate-chip cookies as we wait for them to bake, and I sing quietly along to the Norah Jones CD that’s playing in the background.

I want jump in the huge leaf piles we rake up in my big backyard. I want to see you grin ear-to-ear as we pick round, red apples from the trees. I want to make silly faces at you, and I want to see your cheeks rosy, and your eyes bright. I want to feel the crisp of the autumn air with you.

I want to feel the wind on our backs as we walk together on the cobblestone sidewalks. I want it to carry our laughter across the grey-hued sea. I want to feel the promise of a snuggly night by a warm fire, hot mugs of tea wrapped in our frigid fingers. I want to know exactly how warm it is, trapped in your arms again.

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